Date: Mon, 24 Sep 2001 14:49:10 -0500
From: MS
Subject: Daddy's Little Boy Ch. 8 Gay/Incest

Daddy's Little Boy
Chapter Eight

(This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to real persons living or dead
is purely coincidental. This story contains sexual encounters between
adults and minors including gay incest. If this material is illegal in your
area or offends you, please don't read any further. Otherwise read on and
enjoy! Thanks to everyone who's written, I appreciate the enthusiasm and
encouragement. So keep the letters cummin'!)

May 16, 1976

   Fourteen-year-old Mason Smith looked at the familiar sights around him;
the putty colored walls of Martin County High School, the short napped
green and brown flecked carpeting of the hallways, the rows of alternating
blue and orange metal lockers. All of these things were a part of his
everyday world, the backdrops where the teachers and students acted out the
play of his life.

   Walking down the familiar crowded hallways and seeing hostile looks from
once friendly faces Mason was struck by how something once commonplace and
safely ordinary could still look the same but be so incredibly evil. Only a
few short months ago he'd been a popular guy, the Class Clown always
playing for laughs and hazing the teachers with his quick wit. But once the
rumors blossomed about his Dad's trial, Mason found himself branded with a
new title, FAG. Fourteen was a painfully young age to be forced to see
behind the mask of polite society and find the monsters that sometimes
lurked there.

   "Fag!" a male voice shouted out from the mass of moving bodies followed
by a swirling cloud of cruel laughter, dying away as the crowd moved on, a
living river of students.

   "Queer!" another voice shouted, accompanied by a chorus of high,
squealing feminine laughter.

   "Cocksucker!" shouted at point blank range by Brad Puller, a tall,
muscular, football jock. At the same time he shouted in Mason's ear Brad
elbowed him in the arm knocking Mason's books from the crook in his arm.

    Mason's stomach sank as he watched his books, folders, and notebooks
falling as if in slow motion, fluttering open like strange birds trying to
fly before they hit the floor fanning out in all directions.

   Brad moved on with the crowd `hee-hawing' like a demented donkey as his
cheerleader girlfriend Bobbi Lee tittered and tweeted like a finch.

   As Mason bent to pick up his things several pairs of feet moved into
action; like half-crazed clog dancers they kicked his belongings down the
hallway where yet another pair of feet kicked them even further, and so on,
and so on.

   The bell sounded and the familiar hallways emptied until Mason stood
alone at the head of a trail of battered textbooks, splayed notebooks, and
dozens of loose leaf papers. This must be what Hell is like he thought, a
place that looked familiar but was filled with imposters, demons hidden
behind cartoon masks with friendly faces.

   One by one Mason began to gather his scattered things, a pencil, a red
notebook with the cover half torn away, his English book. Then from beneath
a small pile of twisted notebook sheets and a folder with a footprint
stamped on the front, Mason pulled out the torn and crumpled remains of a
book report he'd spent days working on. Ruined.

   Most of the time he could shut out his classmates cruelty, blocking
their words and ignoring their actions but there were times when their
viciousness broke through and sliced at his heart. Holding the ruined book
report in his hands, something he'd labored so hard on, destroyed for the
sheer pleasure of hurting him, was one of those moments. Fighting back the
tears he gently smoothed the crumpled paper as best he could and tucked it
carefully back into a notebook.

   Then still on his hands and knees Mason continued to pick up his things,
a small, lone figure in a wide, empty hallway. He'd never missed his Dad
more than he did right now.

   In the last hour of the torturously long day Mason sat in Study Hall,
which was held in the school library. He'd chosen a table on the upper
level where he sat alone isolated from the creatures his classmates had
become.

   With a sigh Mason pulled the crinkled and torn book report from his
stack of books and opened it slowly. Scrawled across the top in red ink was
his grade "D" and a message from his teacher beside it reading: "I would
have given you a higher grade but the appearance of your work was
unacceptable! You should work harder to improve the presentation of your
work!"

   Mason let go with a short bark of bitter laughter and was quickly
"Shushed!" by the librarian on the floor below.

   "Pssst!" someone hissed.

   Folding the report and sticking it back into his book Mason looked
around the empty upper level; as far as he could tell he was the only one
up here. Maybe it had been the librarian.

   "Over here!" a male voice called out in a loud whisper.

   Suspicious but curious Mason left his books on the table and moved to
the two rows of bookshelves. The first aisle was empty but in the second
aisle a seventeen-year-old junior, named Keith Timmons stood motioning for
Mason to join him.

   Mason gave Keith a guarded look; Keith was one of the most popular guys
in school, rich parents, a new car and a track jock, all wrapped into a
muscular body with an incredibly handsome face. What the heck would someone
like Keith want with a fourteen-year-old freshman fag?

   Keith rolled his blue eyes in frustration and whispered, "Come on! I'm
not gonna beat you up!"

   Mason raised an eyebrow in disbelief, "Then what do you want?"

   "Is anybody close?" Keith asked nervously.

   Mason looked around the empty upper level then looked beyond the
balcony, downstairs the rest of the students sat at tables huddled in
whispering clusters. "No, just us."

   "Okay," Keith said with relief then slowly lifted the hem of his black
KISS t-shirt out of the way and began to undo the top button of his jeans.

   Stunned, Mason stood with his mouth slightly open and stared in
fascinated disbelief.

   Locking his deep blue eyes onto Mason's handsome face Keith slowly
unzipped his fly and winced at the buzzing sound of his opening zipper, in
the quiet of the library it sounded incredibly loud.

   Mason glanced down at the people below, no one seemed to have heard
anything, looking back to Keith he nodded the coast was clear.

   Keith reached into his open fly and began struggling with his cock and
balls.

   Frozen in place Mason's eyes were riveted to the front of Keith's jeans
and his fumbling hands. It seemed Keith was having trouble getting his
underwear out of the way, then like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his
hat, Keith gave a final tug and his dick and balls appeared from his open
fly.

   The image of the cartoon Rocky and Bullwinkle flitted through Mason's
mind and without thinking he imitated the moose's goofy voice, "Nothing up
my sleeve! Presto!"

   "What?" Keith asked with a frown.

   Stifling a laugh Mason shook his head, "Nothing."

   Exasperated Keith shrugged his broad shoulders, "Well?"

   "Well what?" Mason whispered back, then glanced downstairs at their
fellow classmates and the librarian busy behind her desk.

   "Aren't you gonna," Keith paused suddenly embarrassed, then shaking his
soft dick, "you know, give me head?"

   Both of Mason's eyebrows raised in total shock, Keith was one of the
hottest looking jocks in school and had been the star of more than one of
Mason's late night jack off fantasies. Mason found himself torn between
Keith, a dream come true and his absent Father. Surely his Dad would
understand wouldn't he? How often did something like this happen?

   "God!" Keith swore quietly but strongly, "What are you doing?"

   "Just thinking," Mason whispered and with a final glance over the
balcony he moved between the tall bookcases. Standing in front of the tall,
handsome, black-haired, blue-eyed track star made Mason's heart beat
faster. The fact that Keith's cock and balls were hanging out of his fly
added to the wild sense of danger.

   "What if someone comes upstairs?" Mason asked quietly.

   Keith jerked his square, dimpled chin toward the opposite bookshelf, "I
took the books off both sides, there's a hole I can see through."

   Mason turned and looked through the gap in the books and sure enough
there was a clear view of the top of the stairs. "You put some thought into
this huh?"

   "Jesus!" Keith swore again, "You're worse than a girl, I didn't come up
here to hold hands!"

   "Okay!" Mason said wetting his lips as he sank to his knees. Mason
couldn't believe this was happening! In front of him only inches away from
his mouth was something he'd lusted after since seventh grade, Keith
Timmons' dick! Leaning forward he took the soft, thick, four-inch tube into
his mouth and began to suck on it. In a matter of seconds Keith's cock
swelled to full erection and Mason pulled the jock's boner out of his mouth
to get a closer look.

   "Why'd you stop?" Keith asked impatiently.

   With a final look at Keith's seven-inch rod, long and hard and capped
with a flared, deep-red crown, Mason gripped the other boy's cock by the
base and deep throated him in one lunge.

   "Shit!" Keith said in a breathless whisper.

   Holding Keith's cock deep in his throat Mason began to suck on the
entire length, running his tongue in ripples up and down the underbelly. He
was rewarded with a muffled moan from above.

   Keith was having trouble making his eyes focus and his legs felt like
wet noodles. It was as if Mason's hot mouth were sucking out all of his
energy using his cock as a straw. His girlfriend Mary Beth wouldn't even
touch him down there; much less suck on his boner like it was a candy cane!
He'd bragged to his teammates that he'd gone all the way plenty of times,
but the truth was that Mason Smith was the first person to even see his
dick since his Mom had stopped changing his diapers when he was a toddler.

   Since this was a wet dream come true Mason wanted to make sure this was
a blowjob Keith would never forget! Keeping the shaft of Keith's cock tight
in one hand Mason watched the veins on the shaft pop out in high
relief. Smiling at Keith's moans Mason began to gently tug on Keith's
almost hairless balls.

   Moving slowly at first Mason thrust his head up and down, sucking the
seven-inch length of Keith's hard dick in and out of his mouth. Then little
by little he moved faster and faster until he was slamming his mouth up and
down the full length of Keith's boner.

   "Mmmm!" Keith moaned quietly in the back of his throat as the incredible
sensation of having his dick sucked for the first time raced up his
spine. He opened his eyes and watched as Mason's full lips slid rapidly up
and down his glistening rod then quickly closed them again. He tried to
imagine that it was Mary Beth's mouth giving his cock such an incredible
spit bath, but no matter how hard he tried he could only see and feel
Mason's hot mouth. Keith was struck by the thought that all of this made
him gay! Anger flared deep inside him, bright and hot.

   Keith's pent up feelings and lust seemed to flare hotter as Mason's
incredible mouth made him feel like no girl ever had. Angry he gripped both
sides of Mason's head and began to thrust his hips back and forth like he'd
seen John Holmes do in one of his Dad's hidden porn flicks.

   Mason was caught off guard by Keith's sudden humping thrusts and gagged
as Keith's bloated cockhead slammed into the back of his throat.

   "That's right faggot, choke on my cock!" Keith hissed as he continued to
force his shaft in and out of Mason's mouth with increasing force.

   Mason tried to make the jock back off by placing his hands on Keith's
hips and gently pushing backward.

   "No way! You keep suckin' my dick!" Keith growled. Knocking Mason's
hands aside he grabbed a fistful of Mason's hair in each hand and continued
his brutal face fucking. Sweat soon beaded his forehead and ran in slow
trickles from under his arms as he forced his body to throw his cock deeper
and harder into Mason's mouth.

   At first Mason was hurt by Keith's actions but he pushed those feelings
aside and decided to fight fire with fire. Breathing through his nose he
tried to control his gag reflex each time Keith's fat cockhead rammed into
the back of his throat but it was nearly impossible. But he was determined
to take whatever Keith dished out.

   Through half opened eyes Mason watched as Keith's slick cockshaft
pistoned in and out of his mouth and he flicked his tongue at Keith's
darting cockhead. Keith's heavy balls slapped wetly against his chin with
each thrust of his cock and Mason retched again, choking as the older boy's
cock banged against his tonsils. Keith was going too fast and hard!

   "Ummm, you like that queer? You like my cock fuckin' you in the mouth?"
Keith smiled through gritted teeth, then answered, "Sure you do!"

   For the next ten minutes he continued to grip Mason's head between his
hands as he drove his cock mercilessly in and out of Mason's drooling
mouth. Sweat pooled at his temples and ran in rivulets down his cheeks to
his jaw where they clung like drops of dew.

   Eyes teary from gagging and with spit bubbling out of the corners of his
abused mouth Mason prayed Keith would cum soon. He had never had anyone go
at him with such force and ruthlessness, now he knew what it was like to
have your mouth raped. This was a wet dream gone bad.

   As the minutes ticked by Keith continued his dog-like humping, fucking
Mason's mouth with his cock, until his black hair hung in thick sweat
soaked strands. With his forehead creased in concentration, and sweat
trickling down his red-flushed cheeks Keith continued to plow his hard tool
into Mason's raw mouth, oblivious to everything except his hard cock
plugging and filling Mason's mouth.

   "You like suckin' my big dick bitch?" Keith grunted quietly, "You want
me to cum in your mouth? You want my cum queer boy?" Over and over Keith
rammed his cock in and out of Mason's mouth until he forced the heavy load
from his swaying balls.

   "Take it fag! Eat my cum!" Keith growled as he gripped Mason's face
between his hands in a vice like grip. With a throaty moan Keith shoved his
cock all the way down Mason's throat and forced Mason's face deep into his
crotch as his first heavy cum wad surged out and sprayed thickly over
Mason's tonsils.

   Mason was amazed at how much of the white, sticky jizz Keith kept
squirting into his mouth and throat, not even his Dad or Franklin had cum
this much! Gulping and swallowing Mason choked on the continuous jets of
hot spooge that shot from Keith's throbbing cockhead. No matter how much he
swallowed there was too much of the white stuff and it leaked from the
corners of his mouth to slide slowly under his chin.

   "Oooohhh!" Keith's low moan dwindled as the last surge of his orgasm
sent his muscles into spasms that shook and jerked his entire body.

   As the last spurt of bitter cum splashed onto his tongue Mason felt
Keith's grip loosen and he quickly pulled away letting Keith's spent cock
slip from his raw mouth.

   "Not so fast!" Keith said shakily, resting his cum smeared cockhead on
Mason's parted lips he gripped the base of his half hard cock and milked
out one last thick glob of spooge.

   Mason watched the cum as it oozed slowly from Keith's piss slit then
dropped on to his lips.

   Keith smiled as he smeared the cum around Mason's lips with the tip of
his dick, "Now you're done fag boy!"

   "I may be a fag but at least I know what I am." Mason said as he zipped
up his pants, "I feel sorry for you because you don't know what you are!"

   Keith quickly zipped up his pants and swung his gym bag over his
shoulder but stood hidden behind the bookcase his face pale and his eyes
wide with fright, "You won't tell anybody will you?"

   Mason looked with disgust at the jock, "You're unbelievable!" shaking
his head as he angrily grabbed up his books he fixed Keith with a hard
stare, "I should tell everyone, but I won't."

   Keith sagged with obvious relief, "Good!"

   "I won't because I don't want to be an asshole like you!" Mason snapped
as he turned to go.

   "Wait!" Keith called out desperately.

   Something in the older boy's voice made Mason pause at the top of the
stairs. When he turned back toward Keith he was struck by how lost and sad
the guy looked.

    "I didn't mean to hurt you and you're right I'm an asshole." Keith said
looking down at his feet then raised them again to look into Mason's eyes.

   Mason looked into Keith's big baby blues and felt himself giving in to
his charm, "You're forgiven," he said quietly.

   "Can I call you sometime?" Keith asked blushing, "You know maybe we go
out or something."

   "I'd like that," Mason said with a smile, "Call me this weekend, I'm in
the book."

   Keith turned on his million watt smile, "This weekend?" he chewed his
bottom lip thinking for a moment then, with another smile, "It's a date!"

   Reluctant to leave but finding no other reason to stay Mason hurried
down the stairs, he didn't feel any of them, it felt like he was walking on
air!

   Keith waited until the coast was clear then slipped quietly out of the
library without anyone seeing him.

   The bus ride home was its usual noisy chaotic riot of bouncing shouting
kids but Mason didn't notice anything going on around him. He sat near a
window a half smile curling his lips gently upward as he watched the world
pass by.

   A few blocks away from the school the bus came to a stop at a red
light. At first Mason didn't even notice the red Camero idling next to the
bus. When he realized that the driver was Keith Timmons he waved trying to
catch his attention. Finally Keith did notice and their eyes met but Keith
blushed and quickly looked away.

   Puzzled Mason stared down into Keith's car, and he saw a feminine hand
creep onto Keith's thigh. Then he saw the dark head of Mary Beth Atnip lean
over and the couple kissed. Mason's eyes clouded with hurt and anger and he
kicked himself for being so gullible. Guys like Keith only wanted one thing
from guys like him, to get their rocks off.  The rest of the thirty minute
bus ride slipped by in a fog of disillusionment and anger.

   When Mason exited the bus and stepped down on to his front yard he felt
as if he were one hundred years old. As the bus slowly pulled away and
lumbered down the road hissing and creaking, he walked to the front door
like a sleepwalker.

   "I'm home!" he called out into the hazy gloom of the living room.

   Even though the sun was shining brightly his Mother had closed all of
the curtains plunging the small room into near darkness. The acrid smell of
stale cigarette smoke hung in the air like a fog stinging his eyes.

   It took a moment before he saw his Mother lying on the couch in a
stained bathrobe. On the coffee table in front of the couch, a large
ceramic ashtray bristled with cigarette butts; nearby an empty bottle of
vodka lay on its side next to a glass smudged with lipstick.

   "Damnit Mom!" Mason swore out loud as he flung his books onto the
recliner.

   He hurried to the side of the couch where a burning cigarette had fallen
from his sleeping Mother's outstretched hand to the carpet below. He curled
his nose at the stench of burning acrylic fibers as he plucked the burning
butt from the black crater in the carpet and dropped it into the empty
vodka bottle.

   "Come on Mom! Get up!" Mason urged shaking his Mother's shoulder.

   Sarah Smith came awake with eyes unfocused and the world spinning out of
control. After a moment the room slowed enough for her to focus one mascara
smeared eye on her son, "Mason? Why aren't you in school?"

   Helping his Mother into a sitting position Mason sighed, "It's after
four in the afternoon Mom, school's out already."

   Sitting up but weaving from side to side Sarah ran her fingers through
the spiky porcupine of her hair, "I need a drink!"

   "No you don't!" Mason said forcefully as he tugged at her free arm
trying to make her rise to her feet. "Besides you already drank it all."

   Trying to focus her eyes on the bottle her eyebrows rose and fell
wrinkling the skin of her forehead like an accordion, "Well, so I did!"

   Helping his Mother to her feet Mason turned away from her foul breath,
she reeked of liquor and cigarettes. "Come on, bedroom's this way."

   Shuffling her feet Sarah let herself be led to her bedroom where she
collapsed onto the bed unconscious before her head hit the pillow.

   Mason swung her legs onto the bed and covered her with a sheet then
closed the door behind him. He went to the kitchen and from the nearly
empty cabinets plucked a can of Campbell's vegetable soup. As the soup
cooked he cleaned the coffee table taking away the overflowing ashtray and
empty bottle and dumping them into the trash.

   He did his homework between spoonfuls of soup and at eight o'clock
closed his books and headed for the living room. Turning on the television
he twisted the channel dial to 6 and lay back on the couch with his feet
up. As the opening music to `The Bionic Woman' played, images of Jaime
Sommers leaping buildings, crushing tennis balls and running at 65
m.p.h. filled the screen.

   The Bionic Woman was his favorite show and he watched it religiously
every week. Tonight was a special two-hour episode and Mason was pumped!
This was the only time he forgot the world and its troubles, losing himself
in the flickering magic of the television.

   Two hours later the end credits scrolled up the screen and Jaime Sommers
had rescued her boss Oscar Goldman from a mad scientist and beaten the crap
out of a bunch of mechanical bitches called `Fembots.' Once again the world
was safe.

   Turning off the TV Mason tiptoed through the silent house to his bedroom
at the rear of the house. Mason wondered what it would be like to have
super human strength like Jaime Sommers. He imagined himself tossing a few
of the class bullies through a brick wall in slow motion as the bionic
sound effect `ding ding dinged' in the background. The image made him smile
and with a quiet laugh he undressed for bed.

   Lying on top of the bedcovers Mason reached over and turned on the radio
sitting on the nightstand.

   The soothing voice of a female DJ filled the moon-shadowed room. "This
is Lori Bar and you're listening to 5.70, home of AM gold. Here's a little
something to send my listeners off to sleep with, from 1975 its Gary Wright
and Dream Weaver."

   Mason glanced at the glowing red numbers of the clock and saw it was
10:00 pm. He and his Dad had made an agreement in one of their first
letters; each night at exactly ten they would both jack off. Even if they
couldn't see, touch or hear another they could still share this one moment
each night.

   From the radio Gary Wright began to sing, `I've just closed my eyes
again, climbed aboard the Dream Weaver train. Trying to take away my
worries of today and leave tomorrow behind.'

   Mason closed his eyes and pictured his Dad beside him in the bed, side
by side close enough to touch. His hand slid down his bare torso to the
soft tangle of his pubic hair where his fingers gently lifted the soft tube
of his sex.

   Twenty miles away deep in the granite bowels of the prison David Smith
lay on his back with his eyes closed. He imagined his Son beside him in the
bed, side by side close enough to touch. His hand slid down his muscled,
hairy torso down to the wiry bush of his pubic hair where his fingers
gently lifted his soft penis.

   "Oh Dream Weaver I believe you can get me through the night. Oh Dream
Weaver I believe we can reach the morning light."

   Mason moved his fist loosely up and down his flaccid shaft until it
responded by slowly swelling, filling with blood until it was hard and
throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Then he tightened his grip and began
to work his hand up from the base to the ridge of his crown. He imagined
his Dad beside him doing the same.

   David moved his fist slowly up and down his limp dick until it began to
respond by lengthening and swelling until it reached its full ten-inch
length, the swollen head straining above his navel. He could almost feel
Mason beside him doing the same.

   "Fly me high through the starry skies, maybe to an astral plane. Cross
the highways of fantasy, help me to forget today's pain."

   Mason's hand was a blur now pumping his rigid pole, with each stroke his
balls bounced inside their smooth sac. Wetting his lips he imagined his Dad
kissing him, their tongues sliding over one another.

   David's quickly pumping fist sent the head of his swollen cock slapping
against his stomach while his balls bounced in time with his
strokes. Licking dry lips he imagined Mason's mouth opening to receive his
kiss.

   "Oh Dream Weaver I believe you can get me through the night. O, Dream
Weaver I believe we can reach the morning light."

   Mason was panting now his hips bucking gently up off the bed as he
shoved his cock between his gripping fingers. He saw a drop of clear precum
ooze from his winking piss slit and with his free hand brought the drop to
his lips. As he sucked his own fluid into his mouth he imagined it was his
Dad he tasted.

   David's body was tense, his muscles taut lifting his body off the bed as
he flailed his cock with his hand. Precum drooled from his piss slit and he
caught a drop on the end of his finger, sucking the salty fluid into his
mouth he imagined it was Mason's.

  "Though the dawn may be coming soon, there still may be some time. Fly me
away to the bright side of the moon and meet me on the other side."

   "Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!" Mason grunted as hot sperm flew from the end of his
cock splashing as high as his chin, and landing in thick streamers on his
stomach and chest.

   At the same instant David grunted and grimaced in pleasure as jizz shot
from his cockhead splashing his chest and stomach, clinging in sticky
strings to the tiny black hairs on his chest and stomach.

   As he floated back to earth Mason whispered, "Goodnight Dad."

   " Sweet dreams son!" David's wish echoed through the empty hallways of
Cellblock C.

   As Father and Son both slipped off to sleep the voice on the radio rose
into the night sky where a million stars burned, lighting the way for
mankind's dreams.

   "Oh Dream Weaver."

  To Be Continued.


(Lyrics to Dream Weaver, Gary Wright copyright 1975 Warner Bros. Records Inc.
no copyright infringement is implied or intended.)